The sixth grade dance is a big deal apparently. Since January all three sixth grade classes have met once a week to practice, with boys, the swing, two step, Sid shuffle, electric slide, and the hustle to name a few. There were meatballs and cake pops to refresh.
Proof I’m returning to normal. A KSL kitchen table that was meant to be with the ladder backs. Eating is wonderfully pleasant on a pretty table that can seat all of us and the best part, the seller was in Centerville; 5 minutes away, $70! p.s. I live in a small town!!! I ran into the seller at Wal-Mart and showed her this picture on my phone. She was so happy for me.
Visitors. My BFF (Back Fence Friend) from West Jordan, Stephanie, came with a full car of adorers. Sure do miss that easy cup of cheese or rice from the Browns now that we’ve moved. And for the record, Guenda was have a good time, however she’d brought her mechanical baby from a tech class that had woken up 3 xs the night before. She’d already had enough baby.
Bev came to snuggle Mckay too. The sleeping sweaty newborn head has been documented. His newborn locks remind me of baby orangutan hair. His lashes are white, he’s going to lighten up.
Paige sang in an Earth Day celebration and then took the show on the road in the form a field trip for some care centers in Bountiful. She was the VIP in her class which means printing pictures for the poster and buying treats. We were at the store with the Little Debbies in the cart, and we passed the Easter clearance where we found chocolate bunnies for .10! Cheaper to buy the whole class, their own Topper, Flopper, Sunny, or Honey and so we put the Zebra Cakes back. The picture above came with lots of out takes.
I posted on projects connect about Mckay’s delivery. I elaborated a bit at the end about why we decided to have a sixth child, sharing this:
We talked about having another one. "Why?" James asked, "Do you feel there's a spirit there that's supposed to be in our family?" I answered no, only because I've never felt that. I felt like we could "do" one more and still keep up, handle it, maintain the chaos, enjoy that new life...In a joking sense, if asked, “why six?” I could say: well I made it to 5 and I still had my health, sanity (debatable), and the support of my husband. The reality would be I made a choice.
So after I posted that, I felt conflicted with it’s temporal, self empowered theme. Only because getting a child here, healthy and them keeping them alive is nothing less than a miracle. So much happens. For example:
Mckay was two weeks old and I had put him down for the night in the co sleeper, an in-arm’s-reach-port-a-crib attached to my bed. When he woke up around 3am to eat, I found my Euro size down pillow with a velvet case, that I had absentmindedly shoved off my bed, on top of him. I lifted it up and found him perfectly fine and ready to eat. That feeding was a long one only because my mind wouldn’t shut off the what ifs, the how-in-the-worlds? and ultimately the acceptance of the divine intervention. Down and velvet aren’t breathable, Euro size compared to 8 pound infant size, blech --and yet Mckay was fine.
See my conflict? I can decide to bring or not bring children into the world but after that it’s been a faithful prayer—or more like a demanding beg of help for the last thirteen years. I feel decisive about my numbers but humbled at the miracle of my numbers. Have you felt this? This conflict or competition between choice and faith? It debates in my head, chattering away and I feed it with management tasks during the week and spiritual enlightenment on the weekends.